Aphrodite, goddess of love and lust, is not impressed. After giving up her penthouse suite in trendy Manhattan to go monster hunting around the world, she finds herself in a sad hotel room in Vancouver with a decidedly distracted Loki. She hadn't expected this job to be so serious, and her Norse partner isn't exactly bowing to her whims these days. What was the point in coming with him if they weren’t beneath the sheets all hours of the day? It seems like such a waste of sexual compatibility. Humph.

Meanwhile, Loki, Norse trickster, is equally unimpressed. He hadn't thought taking on a beautiful partner would make his work so difficult. Her unfocused energy grates on his nerves, and his lust for her is only surpassed by his desire for more godly power. He will complete this job, whether she likes it or not, and he’ll walk away one step closer to regaining his old abilities. Now, if only he can get his partner to focus on the task at hand, not seduction. Ridiculous woman.

Aphrodite and Loki, an unlikely team if there ever was one, find themselves in the City of Vancouver hunting vampires. The job is pretty straightforward: rescue the damsel, kill the monster. Unfortunately, even the easiest of jobs hardly ever go according to plan.

She took back everything she said about Vancouver’s beauty in the springtime. Not twenty minutes after Aphrodite stepped out of the shower, the skies opened—and stayed open. Rain and sleet threatened to ruin her gorgeous Louboutin pumps, ravenous winds destroyed her blown-out hair, and thunder made the car windows rattle. Loki seemed unperturbed by the weather; it wasn’t like the rain could make his hair look any less slicked back. She shot him a somewhat bitter look, but he missed it, his eyes on the road.

Still, he looked quite fetching, and she knew it was on purpose. He’d sent for his jacket to be ironed again after their tryst, and even removed the two studs in his ears. He’d donned a pricey wristwatch and polished leather shoes. To bring the whole look together, he’d smoothed down his wild hair and tied it in place. If she didn’t know any better, the man next to her could have been royalty—or at least an investment banker, which was practically the same in some circles. Her attraction heightened seeing him so well-kept, her lust revving up again with a mind of its own. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to ruin either of their outfits by climbing onto him just before they left.

And oh, how she’d desperately wanted to.

Aphrodite huffed miserably, brushing the rainwater off her coat and onto the seat of their rental car. It was absurd that neither of them had an umbrella, and even more ludicrous that the front desk staff didn’t have one to lend on hand. But at least her dress wasn’t sullied. She pulled down the visor and pushed the mirror cover aside. Loki groaned when she turned on the little light above the dashboard, and she batted his hand away when he tried to turn it off.

“You look fine.”

She shook her head, running her pinky under her eyelids to fix the slightly smudged eyeliner. “You were the one who made such a fuss about how I look tonight. You can’t be annoyed with me for doing the same thing.”

“I can’t see the road with the light on the window—”

“Well, it’s not like we’d actually die in a car crash, would we?” She ducked down to find the lipstick in her clutch. After running it along her lips twice, she puckered them, fixed them with a finger, and then switched the light off.

Loki reached for the radio.

She’d chosen black attire to match Loki, the only hint of colour coming from the red on her lips and the bottoms of her shoes. Her dress was fitted yet conservative: a high neckline, cut-off at mid-thigh, and sleeves to her elbows. Overall, Aphrodite thought she looked tantalizing. Loki had merely given her a nod of approval.

She’d never admit how much it bothered her that he didn’t openly drool over her, especially when she’d put effort into her look.

The rental car eventually slowed at a cul-de-sac, and Aphrodite did a quick sweep of the area—well, what she could see through the curtain of rain, anyway. It was an ostentatious neighbourhood in West Vancouver, one with perfectly trimmed hedges and an obscene amount of lawn between each house. The streetlights gave off a warm yellow glow, similar to the bedside lamps in their hotel room, and Aphrodite assumed this would be a comfortable area to raise a family in.

However, she guessed she’d smell the marital discord as soon as she stepped out of the car; that was always the way in these sorts of places. Hera would be more adept at finding a solution, surely, while Aphrodite was more inclined to revel in the stink of lust and jealousy.

“Now, when we’re in there, don’t be afraid to use those legs,” Loki instructed, placing a hand on her damp knee. “They look very nice in that dress.”

Ah, so he was capable of a compliment. She licked her lips and re-crossed her legs, shifting them out of his reach.

“Would you give that same instruction if your partner was a man?” She raised an eyebrow at him defiantly.

He chuckled. “If he had legs like yours, of course.”

Liz is a Canadian author who grew up in the Middle East. She has a degree in Bioarchaeology from Western University, and when she isn't writing about her own snarky characters, she is ghostwriting romance novellas, loitering on social media, or taking care of her many animals.

As a freelance ghostwriter, she has written thirteen books, which range from romance to horror, full-length to novella-sized. A handful are currently on the market, and she stalks their "authors" with fiendish delight. She loves writing realistic characters in fantastical settings.

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She sent an innocent man to prison. Now, eight years later, he's returning the favor...
I've been obsessed with Rafe Mason since I was thirteen. The twisted part of this story is that I still want him, even now.
Now that he's holding me captive on an island.
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